I flip the pages of my 2010-2011 high school yearbook, and I feel a pang of...what exactly? Regret? Longing? Happiness? All three, I think. Being the most nostalgic person to have ever existed on planet Earth, this is totally normal for me. Many a time have I called my best friend, who now works as an engineer in Baltimore, and said to him "Hey, remember when we did this thing? Remember when we went here?" and "Oh man do you remember all the great times we had in high school?" He rolls his eyes, at least I think I can hear him doing that over the phone, and he says, "Yes Kris, I remember. You bring this up at least once every time you call." He knows the fondness I have for that particular year of high school, 2010 to 2011, and I also know he's sick of hearing about it. But I can't help it. 

What keeps me thinking about that year in particular? That was the year, my senior year of high school, when I truly lived. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Of course there are things I regret about that time. I was probably the most awkward, naive kid in the whole school. I wish I had taken part in more school-based events and savored the time I spent there. Despite all this, I have so many great memories that year, and the pleasures were simple. Life hadn't truly begun for me, and yet I felt more alive and fulfilled than I do at times even today. I spent days and nights playing and talking about video games with my best friends, and cheering them on at volleyball games. Homecoming parades and school dances swept me and (despite my awkwardness) created more fond memories. Spending that last summer before college going to outdoor concerts with hard rock and warm winds blasting me in the face. These are moments that keep bringing me back to that one perfect year in high school.

But I think the real reason I look back so much is because then, I really didn't care about much.

Not in an apathetic way of course, or in the sense that I was antisocial or cloistered. Quite the opposite, in fact. I talked to (and knew) just about everyone. School came easily to me, so I even socialized with a some of my teachers. But one thing I wasn't was self conscious or afraid of how people saw me. I was just me; awkward and gregarious. And now, as I look back, that was so freeing. I didn't care about relationships with girls, or saving money, or how people viewed me socially, or job interviews, or surviving and making a living. Just doing my best in school, supporting and hanging out with my friends, and what we'd all talk about the next day. 

I know now that self awareness is a good thing, and of course I have the same aspirations as everyone else now. Fall in love, hold a stable job that I at least somewhat enjoy, make a livable wage, and still maintain an active social life. But sometimes all that seems so impeded by how much I care now; how much I care about what others think of me or what I think of myself. And so, more than all of the great moments and memories of the past, I think that's what draws me back the most. That I let myself be wholeheartedly me, and I felt alive.

I know I can never go back, I'm glad for the memories, and I certainly hope my best days are ahead. I also fervently hope that I manage to find that feeling again someday.